the last page is gone
torn cleanly out of the book
no final words wait
the story stops mid-sentence
somewhere beyond the torn spine
endings gather there
each one wanting to be true
none can reach the door
every ending stays alive
on the lost page still in flight
perchance it escaped
slipping quietly from print
into someone's thoughts
weaving space between bookends
the story scripts the reader
What can I say?
Did I know you wouldn't stay?
Why did you play?
Was our bond just moldable clay?
Why did I get a formal "father",
When I just wanted a "dad" who'd bother?
When I was small, I wished to be big,
Tired of playing this childhood jig.
But once I grew up, I wanted back small,
To escape the shadows that made me feel tall.
My teenage years were drowning in tension,
While they relaxed and lived on a pension.
You demanded so much more,
I asked, "Is there nothing else in store?"
You screamed that you still wanted more!
Was my existence just a tedious chore?
They want the girl to build a home,
Though she was left to weep alone.
Mother sees the rising evil,
But she prefers to love her own
Sweet devil.
I look into your eyes
And I’m safe
And I’m six years old
And you tell me there is no God
And I’m twelve
And my parents are driving home in opposite directions
I need a Fayvor.
Do not ask how much deeper
I am willing to fall,
Or how long I waited
For a connection like this.
She is the host,
And I am connected to her server.
Ask me no open-ended questions,
Like how long this love will endure.
The gap between us demands a solution.
I promised to swim oceans just to see her,
But this feels like the North and South Poles apart.
I see her eyes in the blue oceans,
I feel her touch in the morning sunrays,
And find her smile painted across the sunset.
The calendar devours each passing day,
A reminder of every moment without her near.
Now I stare at the moon and stars—
So close, yet out of reach.
Much like this feeling
I hold so tightly,
Believing that soon
I'll meet my dearest.
After all,
We are not mountains.
When that day comes,
I will hold her close to my life,
Tightly enough to squeeze the calendar
Until a minute feels like a year.
Then I'll close my eyes
And relive every dream I ever dreamed of her.
I’ll look at things your way
if you look at things mine
That will help us connect
Straighten us out, get us aligned
I won’t ask you your pronouns
~ if you don’t ask me my sign
I stepped away,
afraid they'd feel the gap—
but the space
mended me,
and that
mended us.
No illusions therein entrap—
the hush between two heartbeats speaks too plain.
Ego craving is a mousetrap.
A gap—a gape in thoughts my life couldn’t hide;
betwixt two ponderings, vacuum took no side.
There lie all worries, begging for breakthroughs,
where failure stands as bold as decent news.
When steps grow firm, they clear illusion’s threat,
for success occludes failures without sweat.
A garden: fortunes wilt in stillness of will,
even when mouths flourish with joy and thrill.
Then ego becomes the song of deceit,
with beliefs failure can’t withstand its feat.
Before long, a cry too strong to ignore
becomes the downfall life has witnessed before.
It drags pride down through shining polished board
until the mud returns what it ignored:
the taste of joy, the scent of broken clay,
the mirror that ego couldn’t keep at bay.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
an octopus inks
through neural currents—
that gap between synapses
holds the ocean's depth
no illusions dissolved
silence stretches
till the Ego snaps~
its craving a rusted trap
gnawed clean by tides
abandoned on sand
I don't know what to do
How to be there
How to show up
Without breaking something sacred
Or being turned away
So I stand, in the gap
The gap of the silent
The gap of the not knowing
But somehow still doing
Because life doesn't stop
Just because I can't find the map
Because life doesn't wait
For clarity, I'll get that along the way
Or courage
Or the right kind of knowing
It moves, relentless
Like a tide that drags you even as you cling to the shore
I don't know what to say
How to be the presence that heals
Or even if I'm meant to be
So I linger
Half inside, half outside
Watching through the window of someone else's ache
And sometimes, guilt lingers like smoke
For standing here with hands full with of intentions and nowhere to set them
For not being let in
For not knowing if I even should be
Still I show up, in the quiet
In the not knowing
In the whispered prayers
In the small space between absence and effort
Where maybe love still counts, even when it stumbles
Holding what I can't fix
Loving what I can't reach
Maybe the gap doesn't close
And that's the part that hurts the most
One woman's glass ceiling is another man's wood floor
but there's no such thing for a second-class citizen
of a third world country
as
there's no moving up gender is against her
sexual orientation too considered 'half a witness'
in testimony
with
neither voice nor choice can't vote
or
leave home alone
unless
with consent
can't emigrate (passport permission required)
and
as for caste if she were a Dalit
(lowest of the low)
there's nowhere to go
so
between me and you, flee, be a refugee,
what's a poor girl to do?
When love is good,
it's really great.
Unfortunately for most
when the sparkle fades,
they don't know how to fix it.
Seems easier for many
to clear the slate and
go for instant gratification
of finding someone new.
They're addicted to
easy pickings and
the high of novelty.
The other side of that coin
is they are cursed to never
experience the depth
of true and lasting love.
AP: 3rd place 2026, Honorable Mention 2025
On the highway, in the air, by sea
But by faith
You stood in the gap for me
For All you have done
For me
The doors were always locked
Against me.
Until you became the door
For me
And you stood in the gap
For me
The hordes of hades came
for me
With sickness and diseases
You became the Word that
Healed me
For you stood in the gap
for me.
It is a weird one,
To keep gracing distant sun...
While moon could bail fun.
Dry lips are so tight,
To put words up at such sight
Daring distant fright.
While principles flow...
Yet couldn't keep deeds off blow,
In reality's show.
Why not dare decide,
One your past truly confide
Shouldn't be denied?
Its so obvious. Ah fool in love sets themselves up
Its very clear to. For disappointment
me. Ah broken heart needs more
If you know what. assurance
Love is. If you really really love me
You could hear it's. Find ah way to show me
Sweet melody
Harmonized for
The ages
A celebration of
You and me
Love keep us
Together
You know I am gonna
Do my part
Trust in me
This comes straight
From MI heart
But if you still
Need that assurance
I'll dedicate my love
You do the same
It's for us
Tell me you love me
If you really mean it
I'll buy the ring
You all ready seen it
Take my hand
Love me forever
Promise I
I'll leave you never
I’ve never been kissed on the dance floor.
With him, I feel light-hearted,
but apart, I’m utterly devastated.
I’m a dreamer, he’s laid-back,
and without a genuine connection, our love feels
like scenes from a disconnected game—
where hate destroys, yet love seeks to heal.
But with each passing day, my love for him dwindles.
We are apart because this kind of love cannot thrive.
We never dance; we never kiss on the dance floor.
Our rhythms never sync; he lacks that spark,
and so, a kiss on the dance floor has eluded me.
Feelings shift when loneliness takes their place.
Love wavers,
when a marriage crumbles,
as I wish and hope our love was strong enough
to bridge the gap.
Unlike wildflowers plucked without care,
my love was stunted,
never given the chance to blossom.
Still, I hold a profound respect for him.
A part of me must make a choice,
and so I choose happiness; I choose solitude
over the confusion of pity masquerading as love.
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